


Silk and Pride

by orphan_account



Series: Aesthetic + Aspect [1]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: ALSO I DIDN'T EXPECT IT TO BE THIS LONG, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, BUT FUCKING TAKE IT, Dialogue Heavy, Dom/sub Undertones, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I don't know what else to tag this, Light Masochism, Multi, One Shot, Pet Names, Post-Canon, Voyeurism, WHEEZE, from Allen's end, uhhh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-25
Updated: 2018-06-25
Packaged: 2019-05-28 04:34:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15040835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: A black silk shirt over a heavily scarred body.Kamski challenging Allen's endurance and stubbornness.The rules include no moving and no speaking on Allen's end,but there aren't any restrictions for Kamski.The two are alone in a room,lights low, and intentions varied between attraction and distaste.Only one of them is aware that Connor is puppeteering the entire situation.





	Silk and Pride

A black, silk dress-shirt.

That was it.

“ Have you ever felt a finer fabric against your skin? _Allen_? Especially for someone like you, of whom possesses an unrefined roughness and an unyielding cutting edge. “ Kamski’s mouth enunciated each word with sharp poison, unwilling to let anything seem less than a compliment and more than an insult. Fingertips make one slow dragging motion a statue-like jawline.

A moment of hesitation and a warm milky voice purrs: “ Absolutely _magnificent_. “

Allen’s glare traces Kamski’s person as he circles around like a shark, or maybe an _eel_. Yes; Kamski was like an eel, slippery, unattractive, and _irritating_. Oh that man was irritating, infuriating, annoying, a pest, a _target_ to be taken out.

Something dark and grueling bubbled in the depths of Allen’s chest. His eyes traded steel blue for a hue only the Mariana trench would wear; there was a _need_ to get that gaze off his body; a _want_ to make the process as painful as humanly possible. All that comes to mind was _choking_ Kamski until he couldn’t breathe anymore. He wanted to _kill_ the man.

“ What’s wrong, Allen? Is it discomfort you’re feeling? Are you not used to being someone’s object of infatuation? Or is it fury I see? Is it about being anything _except_ the leader? Oh, but you should _love_ this — Look. At. _You_. “ He feels Kamski’s hand grasping hard at his side. Allen flinches, straining an exhale through clenched teeth.

There had been a bruise residing there. Its appearance was a nebula of purple, red, and a concoction of buttercup yellow and mint green. With the gifted clothes on, it was thoroughly covered up, though it still pained him damningly.

Kamski acknowledges this disadvantage with _glee_ , gripping harder, using sharpened nails to delve deeper. It’s only the fabric of silk which ensures no scars will remain. Allen hisses, the pain is melted iron scorching his insides, leaving an aftertaste he couldn’t describe.

“ You love this, don’t you? The surrender of control. The euphoria that comes with being under my rule. As the SWAT team’s senior, you must be accustomed to having people answer to your commands, yes? “ Allen could see Kamski’s hand inching to the hem of the shirt, he could feel a brief whisper of a cold breeze indicating decadent movement, and he could _feel_ cold hands massaging the bruise.

Allen’s breathing picked up.

“ It’s such a shame to know you’d be missed, because I would _adore_ having you around. You and Connor, dressed up in pretty things, and selfishly _my property_. “ Kamski continued, unashamed to stake his fantasies, his claims, and desires. Allen’s eyes flit anxiously from where the mirror reflects Kamski’s hand, to the display of mortification on his own face.

It was a smear of rose red, burning the tips of his ears the more Allen’s skin spiked with anticipation and _delight_ beneath Kamski’s touch. His jaw unclenched, if not to relax then to let out a shaky sigh — he tried his best to keep the sound inaudible, but Kamski was far too keen to let it fly under the radar.

Though, _since_ Kamski’s attention was to his face now..., with a look of fierce will, Allen’s gaze intensified as he let his tongue slowly slide against the bottom of his lips, effectively recoating their dry surface with saliva with an added _flare_.

And Elijah Kamski, for all that he is worth, _watched_ in idle fixation. Contemplating. Conjuring. _Planning_.

From what Allen could understand, the man seemed more enamored by his responses than the situation itself. It was true those sly remarks zeroed in on what could and couldn’t get a response out of him, but Connor had set up this “ playdate “ to test how the two would fare in this intimate atmosphere. That was, originally, what Kamski had his interest set on, too.

Now, those hands were mapping Allen’s skin for the sake of pressing every scar, bruise, and scab he might have on his torso, just to see Allen’s eye twitch and his muscles reflexively tightening. Flinch. Fidget. Shudder. Blush. Kamski’s person absorbed everything that could mean: “ It hurts, and I _love_ it. “

“ Willing to give up, yet? The sooner you admit and _submit_ your pride, the sooner you’ll be able to go home to Connor... And the less of me you’ll get to feel. “ There was a beat of quiet where not even their Allen’s tattered breathing could be heard. Then Kamski scoffed, expression drooping into disfavor but also _pleasure_.

Frostbitten hands slid up Allen’s back, all the way up to the base of his neck, and Allen felt his heart palpitate like a thunderstorm before he grimaced and those nails were forcefully _dragged_ down his spine. Allen felt himself sweating underneath the collar. Kamski observed, absorbed, and mused: “ I was hoping I wouldn’t have to injure such a debonair _doll_. “

Under the dress-shirt, there was a distinct contrast between flaming scratch marks beginning to come to life, and the crisp cold temperature of the silk fabric pressed to the sweltering wounds.

Allen’s eyes eclipse, eyelids clenching together and vision turning black. There is rage detailed in his skeleton, except his throat is weak; he fails to suppress a heady groan — at the praise or the new wound added onto him, he wasn’t sure anymore. Though one thing was certain….

It wasn’t sensitivity that let the noise out, it was because Allen knew the _intentions_ behind the violent gesture, and he was growing partial to the idea of passing control. It felt _good_ and Allen _hated_ it.

Kamski leans against the back of Allen’s person, head fitting in the crook of his neck, though those lips never brushed any skin. The unexplained movement left Allen equal parts; agitated and disappointed. He still wanted to choke Kamski, only the context as to why is _different_ now; it flusters him to no end, and his stomach forms a knot made out of mating snakes.

His heartbeat hasn’t calmed down and his breathing remained audible and _waiting_ for the next move.

There is a hot breath proceeding to mist his jawline, a rich chuckle rumbling into his soul, and Allen reluctantly peers open his eyes again — suspense digging into him.

In the mirror’s reflection, Kamski’s mien gains a darker pitch, appearing more demanding than before; the crack running thinly in Allen’s demeanor was stroking Kamski’s ego greatly, and the simper on the man’s face was a testament to that.

“ Oh, Allen. Allen, Allen, _Allen_. You closeted masochist, you. I’m _almost_ distraught by your colossal patience and/or stubbornness. But at the very least, “ Kamski’s index finger traced lightly the outline of Allen’s collarbone, and then began to _carve_ into it. Allen’s breath stuttered to a halt, his heart rate flying through the roof. “ I’ll get to test you some more. “

He wouldn’t last that long mentally.

Allen knew _damn_ well he wouldn’t last that long mentally.

He came in here with no preparation, experience, or proper warning aside from Connor’s: “ It’s just a test of pride and endurance, something fun since I doubt you two can survive a normal conversation with one another. Plus he said he’d put you in something fancier as a gift, and he saved me in the past which doesn’t make him a _terrible_ man. So why not? “

_Why not, indeed_.

“ No, _no_. I give up. Get your hands the fuck off me, Kamski. I am _done_. Back the fuck away, and drill this into your head; _I’m only here because of Connor_. “ Oh, but he was lying. Allen was lying through his teeth. It stopped being about Connor when he decided halfway into the session that he enjoyed everything; he _enjoyed_ the remarks, the icy fingers, and the eyes running all over him.

Hell, he even liked the silk and how it glided against his burning flesh, adding a tingling feeling and throwing his senses off between pain, pleasure and comfortable discomfort.

Allen was running on sheer self-preservation at this point, and he wasn’t even doing it well; “ Give me my keys and the shirt I was wearing, and I’ll fucking return your stupid silk shit. “

Kamski hesitates, he stops moving entirely so he could rest against the vacancy of the guest room. His gaze is different — more analytical and demanding, damp and scheming. That was _never_ good.

Allen’s instincts flare. Danger. Danger. _Danger_.

Through the haze of everything, he organizes his vocabulary. Allen was prepared to snarl and hiss in response to whatever Kamski might say, but the moment his lips part to urge the other on, Kamski cuts forward and Allen is backed into the mirror. The billionaire consumes his existence — twisting, melting, manipulating, and breaking them down to basic components using only a skillful tongue and snaking fingers winding harshly into Allen’s hair.

The previous activity left Allen flustered and unbearably confined, which makes this impromptu make-out session a _shove_ forward. And a shove forward was all it took to tip the SWAT Captain completely over the edge.

All the shuddering, ceasing and stuttering of his breathing smoothens like a raging ocean in a pouncing position. He evaporates into the kiss, completely overloaded — Allen moans into Kamski’s mouth, the sound coming across as guttural with no chains trying to hold it back. One hand is knotted in his hair, while an arm wraps around his waist and forces his body to come closer.

Kamski grins, teeth nipping at Allen’s bottom lips. He stops the kiss for the sake of seeing Allen’s reaction when he — grinds _down_. Allen feels electricity trying to wake him out of his dreamlike state, but it only pushes him farther into it. Whatever wanton noise about to slip, Kamski drove his lips to fit with Allen’s, drinking it like clean liquor and drinking _Allen_ like sin.

Yet, the display of affection was no soft gesture; it was ruthless, wrathful and somewhat dismayed. It was a final hurrah, an attempt to reclaim what would be lost before it was truly considered _lost_. The kiss was Kamski’s requiem, and Allen knew. After all, if it weren’t for Connor’s curious personality and his suggestion that Allen actually _meets_ Kamski, the two would have never encountered face to face — 

Mind you, they’ve spoken over the phone before.

Kamski and Allen have spoken frequently when Connor was away on a case, leaving Allen at home to pick up the phone. There was no way Allen would allow _anyone_ treat him like this, like a _doll_. However, the two never spoke about any plans to meet up. They both didn’t care for conversations in person, because they were two major evils when it came to reading body language and analyzing people’s subconscious behavior.

It was even stressed repetitively from Kamski’s witty wordplay, and Allen’s perplexing candidness that the world would _end_ if they met. But they were shoved into each other regardless, because Connor wanted them to experience each other’s reality, instead of simulating it over the phone.

He didn’t think too much of it — his lack of knowledge in romantic relationships and _romance_ , in general, left him pliable for whatever Connor’s peculiar mind wanted.

Allen felt the last of his breath die in his throat. He damns Kamski for swimming in excess, because it was obvious the man was doing just _fine_ outlasting him. The fingers in his hair relent after Allen gives a firm nudge back; an action to say “ Let go. “

And now, in the limelight with the audience being Kamski and _only_ Kamski, Allen tries to stop being out of it as his expression simmers into light distaste. His eyes narrow — the kiss was Kamski’s requiem, which is odd because he wasn’t sure _why_. Why a token of remembrance? They were going to call each other again anyway.

Kamski never answers because he never voices out his suspicion, words having spilled from his vocabulary and onto the ivory floor. Allen was frustrated in more ways than one.

Barely a second of silence passed before Kamski began speaking: “ Did you know, Allen, that Connor planned all of this? I’m not limiting his schemes strictly on us meeting and being left alone together, I meant he’s had this in mind ever since _I_ called him, interest piqued regarding the last update he wanted; you see, RK models don’t usually request for outlandish installments such as the ability to behave romantically or domestically. “

Allen watches Kamski pluck the shirt he had arrived in off the bed, and though he’s ready to take off the silk fabric, Kamski commands a serrated “ _Don’t_. “ and hands Allen his shirt back with a sly grin. For some reason, Allen obeys, simply holding his regular t-shirt with a cloud in his head keeping him from processing too much of anything.

“ I became rather invested in your character, y’know? Re-reading transcripts from our phone calls to analyze what made you tick and what made you _stop_. Mastering the type of man you are. You were set up for failure, still, you found a _victory_ somewhere in there, didn’t you? “ Kamski spoke, seduction and arousal dripping off his tone. His visage bore a smirk joyously gleaming at the deepening scowl on Allen’s face.

Despite that scowl, his eyes were misted over and his face was glossed by a sheen of moisture.

Kamski was right and he knew it: “ Connor had told me to keep it at just words, but — “ Their attention refocuses to the static fuzz coming in clearly, filling the quiet room with a pleasant white noise. The curved-screen television flickers into activation. Allen’s lungs flutter with anticipation and amusement when his vision finds Connor. Connor who is sitting cross-legged on their couch, a knowingness in those oak brown eyes.

“ I figured if he wanted to watch, then why stop at just _words_? “

“ Yes. I figured Mr. Kamski would try something, so I signed out of work early to watch. And since you two are both finished interacting…, “ Connor leans closer to the camera recording, a smile edging at his lips. “ Perhaps it’s time you come back home, Allen, and I’ll help wrap up the rest of the experiment. I’ll leave the camera on so _Elijah_ can watch, too. “

Kamski laughs, raising a hand and cuffing Allen’s ass firmly while ushering him to hurry and go home.

And he does. Allen drives home right after that — but, he goes home heavily turned on and hard in his slacks with his hair unkempt, the bruise on his side and the new scratch marks on his back aching for someone’s touch.

**Author's Note:**

> This series will most likely be consistent on the rating.  
> Ahhhh, hope you had fun -- this ship is..., something.  
> Anyway, my Tumblr is @RK-900, feel free to suplex me if you end up shipping this.


End file.
